


Alana Get Your Gun

by sick_boy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Guns, Panic, Prison, Protective Alana, Sleep Deprivation, Trailer Speculation, can be willana or not, one of his first days in prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:07:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sick_boy/pseuds/sick_boy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When i saw Alana with the gun in the trailer, i thought perhaps Will had begged her to get one in order to keep herself safe, and that that was the only reason she had a gun and was protected from Hannibal (not that she isn't her own strong, brave, badass woman, i'm just a Will stan and it'd be heartwrenching.)</p><p>So here is Alana visiting a panicked Will, only being in prison for a few days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alana Get Your Gun

“Alana,” Will breathed her name in a sigh of relief. He gripped the bars unwittingly, both in frustration that he was not allowed to touch Alana and that he was bound to eighty square feet of living space (he found that out in the first few hours, toeing the walls carefully.)

“Will,” she gave a half-hearted attempt to smile, but it felt so fake. Everything she did these days felt wrong.

“Please, sit.” She pulled the fold-up chair the allotted distance away from his cell, while he sat on the edge of the bed.

She could feel Will’s pain radiating off him, and more prominently panic. His striking blue eyes held both a profound hollowness and an unreadable storminess. They lilted above grey bags that looked more like permanent bruises. It was clear he had been awake for some time, quite possibly the entire two and a half days he had been incarcerated.

Along with his exhaustion came thready panic. His eyes darted around his cell like a driver trying to keep awake on a dark and abandoned highway. The weight of his head was too heavy to hold up, drooping the less self-conscious he became. He sat like his back was broken, and in a way, it was. Life had thoroughly stomped on Will Graham, and it was all he could do to sit upright, to take it with dignity.

“How are you holding up?” She said tentatively, bracing herself for her own self-deprecating comeback.

“Ah...” He searched through the catalogue of words in his head, but none of them could even begin to scratch the surface of whatever it was he was feeling. “I don’t-...” He inhaled a frustrated breath and shrugged.

“It’s okay, I know,” she said. “Or- I don’t know how you feel, but I generally-”

“I get it,” he cut in.

They both looked around for a few moments, unsure of what to say.

“S-sorry,” Will apologized quietly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” emphasized Alana.

She looked at him, this huddled form before her. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Stay away from Hannibal Lecter,” he answered immediately.

Her small sigh told him he hadn’t gained any credibility with her either. The woman he loved thought he was delusional, but he couldn’t let that stop him from protecting her in any way he could.

“Please. You don’t have to believe me, just do that for me. Beware of him. You could-” he stuttered, sleep-derived eyes going wide at the idea. “You need to get a gun.”

She drew a deep breath in, “Will I need you to try to sleep for me, okay? It looks like you’ve been awake for days. I can ask that nice orderly Barney to give you something-”

“No! No,” he rose from the bed and returned to his stance at the bars, clinging to them as if they were her.

“I need you to listen to me,” he rambled, a panicked mania coming over him. “I need you to promise me you’ll get a gun. Carry it, ahh... carry it in your bag, wherever you go.”

She rose to meet his gaze. Her concerned eyes met his pleading ones. “Will, I’m not active in the field, I’m a psychiatrist, I have no reason-”

“Hannibal Lecter is all the reason you need!” He nearly shouted, breathing fast. Will knew he wasn’t sounding any more reasonable, but he had quickly grown tired of no one believing him, especially when his demands might save their lives. “Please, you asked if there was anything you could do, and I’m asking you to carry a gun at all times. For me.”

Alana took this moment to look at him, really look at the man standing before her. Sweat had collected on his forehead, tears in his eyes. She knew he was close to a full-blown panic attack, and that this would at least calm him down, ease his fear.

She considered the situation- she was in the FBI, and had consulted in the Chesapeake Ripper case, who was still at large and had proven himself capable of just about anything. That was not to mention the other cases she had worked with, violent psychosis, persecutory delusions... This was not her first time considering carrying a concealed weapon, but she had not put much thought into it before holding off. Alana may have grown up near rifles, but she was still not comfortable with them. Guns, like she had once told Will about relationships, seemed like something for somebody else. But looking into the stark fear on Will’s face and knowing she had it in her power to do something about it, she knew she couldn’t deny him. It might prove useful one day, and if nothing ever came of it, she had an extra pound in her handbag.

She looked up into his eyes and nodded. “Okay, Will. I’ll get one soon.”

Will let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thank you.”

Alana checked her watch. “I better get back.”

Will nodded.

She opened her mouth, ready to spew some pseudo-inspirational line. Hang in there, or sit tight. She mentally cursed herself.

“Please try to rest. Even if it’s just laying down and closing your eyes for a while- you need it. And like I said before, if you notice any symptoms coming back, you need to tell someone-”

“I know,” he nodded, retreating back to his hollowness.

She guessed that if enough time passed, she would not be able to bring him out his body’s defensive numbness. She would get to talking to Chilton about possible anti-depressants, if it ever came down to Chilton handling his treatment. A phantom shudder went down her spine. Alana would not let that happen.

“I’ll be back Wednesday- that’s two days from now,” she added, as she caught the hint of confusion on his face.

“I know what day it is,” he countered weakly.

She sighed. “I’m going to try my hardest to get you out of here, Will. I’m picking out a lawyer, the evidence is still being examined and analyzed. There’s a lot still going on-”   
“What’s the point,” he muttered, the tears brimming his eyes glistening in the pale, artificial light. “The evidence is against me, and I can’t remember.”

“The point is that no one’s forgetting you here,” her voice trembled. She needed to leave or she would break down entirely.

“I think I am,” he whispered, haunted, looking down the hall to break eye contact.

She put her hand over his on the bar.

“M’am, step away from the bars!” The guard shouted, running over.

Alana, shocked, took her hand away. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. He’s only been here a couple days, I forgot. I-I was just going.”

The guard was obviously staying to escort her out. She spared Will an apologizing glance. “Bye, Will.”

“Bye, Alana,” he said, and as he blinked, the tears rolled down his cheeks. That was Alana’s parting image of one imprisoned Will Graham.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah i haven't been able to write like i've wanted to for quite a while, so i'm sorry this isn't very well written. Usually i write these kinds of things and never show them to anyone, so i thought why not just put it out there.


End file.
